


if you dare, come a little closer

by corallydica



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Sleepovers, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-15
Updated: 2013-10-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 12:16:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1005317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corallydica/pseuds/corallydica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cora and Erica aren't feeling the pack bond with each other, so Derek throws them a mandatory sleepover. They've got the loft to themselves and one night to learn how to play nice. It's a success, eventually. (title from "Stay" by Rihanna)</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you dare, come a little closer

Derek is the worst.  
  
He just up and decides one day that Cora and Erica don’t get along as well as he thinks they should, like there’s some kind of pack closeness test that she and Erica failed.  
  
And that’s bullshit. Sure, they butt heads and they snipe at each other, but that’s not unheard of; especially between two females in a male-dominated pack.  
  
The two could never be mistaken for best friends, but that suits Cora just fine. Her encounters with Erica _do_ tend to leave her agitated, and she’s usually in a state of perpetual edginess whenever they have to co-exist in the same space, but Cora has learned to combat that by staying away from her as much as is realistically possible.  
  
It shouldn’t even matter. There’s been no bloodshed and only maybe one or three heated arguments where literal claws nearly came out, and as long as that remains true, Cora really doesn’t see a cause for alarm.  
  
But Derek insists that they need to bond, so he leaves them in the loft with a bunch of junk food and a stack of movies in front of the new flat screen and he fucks off to Peter’s apartment.  
  
A forced sleepover. How is this even Cora’s life?  
  
"Not exactly how I planned on spending my Friday night," Erica says pointedly in the direction of the door as it slides closed behind Derek.  
  
Cora sits down heavily on the couch, scrubs a hand over her face and sighs. “No shit.”  
  
Her exasperation goes unnoticed by Erica, who’s already raiding the snacks, tugging a twizzler out of the pack and gnawing on it while she paws through the movie pile. And that easy transition from discontent to distracted is something about Erica that she thinks maybe she could list as a positive attribute, should someone put a gun to Cora’s head and demand it of her.  
  
"Chick flick. Way too sad. Hate that actress. Nope," she says, dismissing each one in turn. "Ooh, Fight Club!"  
  
Cora perks up at that, actually. She was too young to watch it when it was first out, but there was this one dingy little motel that she stayed at while she was traveling, so lacking in upkeep that the hot water in the shower smelled weirdly, overwhelmingly similar to burnt peanuts and the old television only offered one movie channel. And more often than not, Fight Club was the movie that was playing on it. Cora watched it so many times she lost count, but she never got sick of it.  
  
Erica’s dropping it into the player with a stupid grin on her face. “Brad Pitt is so delicious,” she coos, and Cora shoots her an unimpressed look.  
  
They sit at opposite ends of the couch and there’s no conversation, and Cora is perfectly content with all of that. Cora’s watching the movie while Erica mostly plays on her phone and really only looks up for the Tyler Durden scenes. It’s kind of impressive how fast her head snaps up when she hears Brad Pitt’s voice.  
  
Cora orders a pizza about halfway through the movie with money that Derek left for such things, and okay, that was actually pretty cool of him. They bicker over what toppings to order, eventually settling on half pepperoni and half pineapple and black olives. Cora’s half is the normal half, obviously.  
  
"He can throw me around anytime," Erica says around a mouthful of pizza.  
  
Cora rolls her eyes from behind her can of soda. Erica notices.  
  
"Problem?" Erica asks, arching a perfectly-shaped eyebrow at her.  
  
And Cora doesn’t really know where to start. “I mean, there’s a deeper point to this movie than just Brad Pitt being hot,” she says. “It’s about a guy who’s so fed up with his own pointless existence that he literally makes up another person as a means of escape. It’s about mental illness.”  
  
Erica does a thing with her mouth that makes Cora want to smack her. “Wow,” she says. “Didn’t know you could even say that many words in a row.”  
  
"Yeah, well, some of us wait to talk until we have something important to say," Cora retorts. And it’s not a direct jab at Erica, not really. Most of the teenagers in the pack are loose-lipped, not just her. But the way Erica’s eyes narrow and lips part as she lets out an indignant little huff spell out all too clearly how personally she takes it.  
  
"Oh okay," she says, but the downward shift and slight growl in her voice says fairly certainly that, no, it’s probably not going to be okay at all. "Sorry we can’t all be antisocial assholes who have to have their big brother find them friends."  
  
Cora rears back in an unintentional recoil, because it stings a little even though it shouldn’t. Cora is above getting offended by some juvenile words from a fledgeling werewolf. She’s spent years separated from her remaining family, surviving by her own means, believing she had no other choice. Cora wears heavy armor against things like emotional vulnerability, and it’s ridiculous that all it takes are a few biting words to find a weak spot. And maybe it’s just the faintest little knife-twist that it’s Erica who finds it.  
  
"You know what? Fuck you," Cora snarls, but she knows she sounds more defensive than dangerous. "Just because I don’t walk around with my tits out and flirt with everything male that moves doesn’t mean I’m antisocial."  
  
Erica smiles with all of her teeth, but it’s not a nice one. “Is that your way of saying you’ve been looking at my boobs?”  
  
And that’s not what she expected Erica to say. Not even close. Maybe that’s why she lets out a sudden exhale and stutters for a moment before breathing in another. Maybe it’s why the back of her neck is so hot when she fights the highly-suggestible, kneejerk impulse to let her eyes flick down to Erica’s chest and rolls them contemptuously instead before turning her gaze back to the movie.  
  
They don’t talk for the next two hours, and this time Cora finds herself shifting uncomfortably every so often. She had been appreciative of the silence earlier, but now it felt strained and awkward and Cora was still vaguely livid that Erica had gotten under her skin. But they sit silently through another movie, something with Sandra Bullock in it that Cora isn’t familiar with. It’s about some guy in a coma.  
  
At the end of that, Cora hears sniffling coming from the other end of the couch and looks over just in time to catch Erica wiping her face with her sleeve.  
  
Erica catches her looking and she furrows her brow. “Oh shut up,” she says. “The ending gets me every time.”  
  
Cora smiles softly, and it might even be kind of fond. Because it’s endearing, witnessing Erica experience emotions outside of her own teenage vanity and self-importance. Another thing to add to the gun-to-her-head list, maybe. “I didn’t say anything.”  
  
"You had a look," Erica says, smiling back lazily as she stretches her legs out, claims the cushion between them as hers, too.  
  
Cora feels something strange in her stomach, a churning, fluttering type of feeling. Maybe the pizza was a little too heavy on the grease. The fact that it happens in tandem with Erica’s sudden display of comfort in her presence, with Erica willingly breaking the space barrier between them, is not something that needs to be thought about. “Sorry about my face,” Cora says flatly, because she can’t think of anything else.  
  
Erica toes her in the side of her thigh. “You should be,” she says, but she’s still smiling softly.  
  
Cora swats at Erica’s foot and she yanks it back with a giggle. “You’re not as fast as you think you are,” Erica says, and if that’s not a challenge then Cora doesn’t know what is.  
  
"No?" Cora asks. "Bet I could put you to the floor if I wanted to."  
  
Erica’s brows shoot up and she’s grinning mischievously. “Challenge accepted,” she says, and she’s up off the couch and moving to the center of the loft.  
  
And, no, she hadn’t meant it as an invitation for a spar at midnight. But whatever, she thinks, as she pushes herself up and joins Erica.  
  
"No claws or fangs," Erica says, eyeing her like she seriously suspects that Cora would try to take a chunk out of her. And Cora’s not sure if she likes that Erica’s that wary of her or not.  
  
Cora nods. “Obviously,” she says. “First one to pin for a three count wins.”  
  
Erica agrees, and they start circling around each other, eyes locked on their opponent and waiting for any sign of forward movement.  
  
It’s Cora who finally lunges, and Erica sidesteps, giggles as Cora grasps at thin air and whips herself back around.  
  
"Like I said," Erica says, tone superior. "Too fucking slow."  
  
Cora’s got the distance closed between them before Erica’s even done smirking. She grabs Erica around the waist, tries to pick her up and slam her down the floor. But Erica’s heel connects hard with her shin and she stumbles, letting go of Erica in the process.  
  
Erica’s on her, one hand on the back of her shoulder and the other hand pulling hard at Cora’s hair. And that doesn’t seem exactly fair, but they hadn’t specified no hair-pulling, and it makes a certain amount of sense that Erica would be the one to go for it. Cora thinks about grabbing a handful of Erica’s hair and jerking back even harder, but something about mangling that golden hair doesn’t sit right, so she resists the urge to be spiteful.  
  
And for her hesitancy, she ends up on her knees, Erica following her down with a look on her face like she thinks she’s already won. _Fuck that,_ Cora thinks as she throws all her weight forward and knocks Erica to the ground, hard enough that she makes a little _'ungh'_ noise.  
  
"One," Cora counts, smirking down at Erica. And then she realizes that her hand is on Erica’s chest. The same chest that she’d been called out earlier for sneaking glances at, which she will never actually properly admit to having done, gun to her head or not. She shouldn’t let it throw her off, because they’re fighting and things are going to get touched. It’s not a big deal. Except that Cora’s definitely blushing, heat creeping up her neck and onto her face.  
  
It robs Cora of her focus just long enough for Erica to flip them over, pinning Cora to the floor with impressive force and speed. Cora feels her eyebrows raise in what’s probably muted surprise.  
  
"One," Erica announces gleefully, smiling down at her. Cora stares up at her like an idiot, mind and body both unwilling to make her move. It should be easier than this, but her brain seems to have ceased functioning on a normal level, all coherent thoughts blotted out and suffocated by the determined expression on Erica’s face as it looms above her — way too close.  
  
"Two," Erica calls out, and now it’s getting embarrassing. It should be easier than this to control her own body. She had been trained relentlessly to have nothing but control. To school her emotions. To find an anchor, something meaningful, and cling to that when things started to spiral. Her life was a series of training and tests, and fuck if she hadn’t passed every single one. And yet, now, with Erica pressed against her, she feels perilously close to failing. But she still can’t make her body move.  
  
"Three," Erica says, but it comes out dull, totally lacking the obnoxious enthusiasm of someone who’s just won at something. She’s looking down at Cora like she thinks she broke her, and Cora thinks two things: that she wishes she could permanently erase that look from Erica’s face, and that she might actually be broken.  
  
"I didn’t hurt you, did I?" Erica asks, and it’s a real question. She’s actually concerned.  
  
Cora shakes her head. God, internally she’s a wreck; all confidence having been sapped with her defeat and replaced by sweaty palms and an intensely flustered feeling. But, no, technically she’s not injured.  
  
It’s worse that Cora knows she’s the one who challenged Erica; that she’d been blatantly overconfident enough to say out loud that she was more skilled than the other, newer wolf. It was worse that she’d been wrong. Because maybe — _probably_ — she really is faster and stronger than Erica, and it’s likely that she has a better technical grasp. But anticipating your enemy, and more importantly, knowing your own weaknesses, is an essential part of winning fights that Cora obviously needs to brush up on. She’s got nobody to blame but herself, and that picks at her even more.  
  
Erica blinks down at her, but doesn’t make any attempt to remove herself.  
  
"You suck at fighting," Erica says, and she’s still too close. Cora wriggles underneath of her, and yeah, that’s perfect. Now she can move.  
  
Cora scowls. “Whatever,” she says, voice coming out a little more defensive than she’d meant it to, which was not at all. She collects herself enough that her next response sounds more aloof. “Maybe I let you win.”  
  
It’s a dumb thing to say, and she realizes that as soon as she says it. Because what’s honestly worse: losing to Erica, or being soft enough to let her win?  
  
Erica scoffs. “You really didn’t, though,” she says. “I beat your ass fair and square.”  
  
Cora opens her mouth to protest, to demand a rematch, to put her in her place. But Erica’s gaze is intense, locked on hers like she’s waiting for something. Probably for Cora to praise her. And Cora realizes that she doesn’t care about her ego right now. She doesn’t want a round two and she has absolutely zero desire for an argument. She just wants to put some distance between them, because she’s hot and uncomfortable and she’s starting to notice the flecks of gold in Erica’s eyes. “Fine,” Cora acquiesces, shifting beneath Erica. “You won. Now get off of me.”  
  
Erica huffs and jumps up, stands over Cora for a beat and just looks down at her with an inscrutable expression on her face. Then she’s holding out her hand to Cora.  
  
Cora hesitates, unsure of whether more contact with Erica is really the best thing for the ache she’s feeling in the pit of her stomach. But after a few moments of relentless, increasingly impatient eyes staring down at her, she puts her hand in Erica’s and allows herself to be hauled upright.  
  
And if there’s a weird moment when they’re face-to-face, if her hand is reluctant to let go of Erica’s, it’s only because she’s just lost a fight to Werewolf Barbie and she’s out of her head. She is so far out of her head.  
  
"So," Erica says. "That was fun." She’s way too proud of herself; leaned in close, lips tugged up at the corners but not yet cracking into a full-fledged beam. There’s a blush creeping over her cheeks that Cora would bet has nothing to do with exertion and everything to do with being smugly victorious. It’s kind of pretty, though, the way the light pink blooms on her skin like paint on a canvas.  
  
Cora walks back to the couch before she does something impulsive, like punch her in the face, or crash her lips hard against that smirking mouth.  
  
If she had intended to put some distance between them, she’s thoroughly unsuccessful, because Erica plops herself down right next to Cora. Her hair sways softly as she sits, brushes the side of Cora’s arm. And she’s suddenly aware of how good Erica smells, a faint scent of floral and vanilla given new life from the heat and friction of their fight. Cora tries not to breathe it in, but after a few shallow breaths, she takes in a deep lungful in spite of herself.  
  
Cora’s neck is hot from the sheer proximity of the other wolf, but then she realizes that Erica’s gaze is fixed intently on her, and she steels herself before turning to look at the blonde. “What?”  
  
"I’m bored," Erica says, sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.  
  
Cora rolls her eyes mostly for show. There’s a kind of warmth unfurling in her chest that she doesn’t need and shouldn’t want, but there’s something about it that she really doesn’t hate. Her mind instinctively tries to put a name to it, to come to some sort of explanation, but the conclusion it starts circling around makes Cora’s stomach tighten and she shuts it right down.  
  
"What do you want me to do about that?" Cora asks, but it’s a rhetorical question.  
  
Erica bites her lip—and if Cora didn’t know any better she’d be starting to think that Erica wants her attention to be on her mouth—and looks pensive for a second. “Let’s play truth or dare!”  
  
"You can’t be serious right now," Cora says, eyes wide and brows lifted like she legitimately can’t believe Erica would even suggest it. But then, she thinks, it’s a sleepover and they’re teenagers. Isn’t this kind of a cliched expectation?  
  
Erica narrows her eyes right back, but she’s also wearing a dangerous-looking smirk. “Dead serious. Come on, it’s better than watching another movie.”  
  
And maybe she does kind of have a point there. Cora can appreciate a movie marathon as much as the next person, but she’s starting to get a little fidgety and restless being so close to Erica. It would be good, maybe, to have an excuse to get up and move around.  
  
Cora sighs. “Fine,” she relents. “But you go first.”  
  
Erica perks up instantly. “Fuck yeah. Okay, I pick truth.”  
  
"Of course you do," Cora says. And then she has to think, because she’s never actually played this game, so she’s not exactly sure what the proper etiquette is. Normally, she wouldn’t give a shit about etiquette. Even at the beginning of this night she wouldn’t have cared, but now things seem tenuous, like the slightest rattling could knock them off balance. And, strangely, Cora really doesn’t want that to happen. Cora shrugs and bites her lower lip. "I don’t know. Uh. Did you and Isaac ever hook-up?"  
  
Erica’s eyes go comically wide. “What? No! He’s like my _brother._ ”  
  
Cora fights the urge to smirk. “I just thought I remembered hearing something about you two and some guy named Jackson.”  
  
"That was just a distraction! And why do you even know about that?" Erica huffs, and Cora is inwardly thrilled, because she thinks she can just about see Erica beginning to regret her decision to play this game, and knowing that she’s riling her up to that extent is a delicious feeling.  
  
"Pretty sweet distraction," Cora says, and no, she hadn’t meant for it to be out loud. It’s like her brain-to-mouth connection, or really her brain-to-everything connection is malfunctioning on a frightening level tonight. But seriously, what an unfortunate moment to slip up, when she was just starting to make Erica squirm.  
  
Erica lifts a brow, and something in her expression reminds Cora of a snare trap. “You think so?”  
  
Cora blinks; considers her words carefully. “I- yeah. I mean, it could’ve been a lot worse, right?”  
  
Erica eyes her for an uncomfortable moment before she looks like she’s satisfied. “I guess so,” she says with a slight shrug. “Truth or dare?”  
  
"Dare," Cora says with a slight smirk. There’s nothing physical Erica could put her up to that she can’t handle, and she’s itching to get up and move.  
  
Erica rolls her eyes. “Not surprising,” she says flatly. And then she looks like she’s just come up with something brilliant. “I _dare_ you to tell me why you asked about Isaac. Do you like him?”  
  
The laugh that rips out of Cora is so loud it makes Erica scrunch up her face. She’s a little fuzzy on the rules, but she’s pretty sure you’re not allowed to dare someone to tell the truth. Still, Cora reasons that it’s probably like the hair-pulling thing from earlier. If it wasn’t specified that it’s against the rules, then it’s not. Cora lets out a breath and shakes her head. “No,” she says. “No. He’s cute, but no. I was just curious because you seem really close with him.”  
  
Erica’s watching her with a new kind of intensity. “You notice who I’m close with?”  
  
Cora recoils like she’s just been burned. “I- it’s your turn,” she stammers. Actually stammers. And later on, she’s going to have a long bout of introspection about how easy it is for Erica to unravel her like this.  
  
"Hm," Erica says, and it’s almost like she’s appraising Cora and she’s just found an interesting detail. And if that’s not enough to make Cora squirm, Erica’s voice is almost sultry when she says, "Dare."  
  
Cora’s not really prepared for any of it. For the depth of Erica’s tone, for the way she’s looking at her like she knows something. For a night spent alone with a gorgeous girl, with the unmistakable instruction that they get closer. It’s all just incredibly jarring. And so if she didn’t know what to say before, now it’s so, so much worse. She finds herself floundering and then going with the first thing she thinks of. “I dare you to, uh, sext Stiles.”  
  
Erica smiles softly, shakes her head. “You can do better than that.”  
  
"I can?" Cora asks. She knows it’s true, though. There’s a pull, kind of, a sick tugging in her gut that urges her on, tells her that what she wants is right in front of her. And it’s not surprising at all, when she thinks about it. Because there was always something infuriating about Erica, something on the tip of Cora’s tongue that she could never put a name to, but it always rattles her bones and frays her nerves whenever Erica’s around. Maybe Cora’s mistake was interpreting it as a bad thing.  
  
"Try harder," Erica says, eyes locked on Cora’s. But there’s something wrong with her tone. Something different. Not only gently urging, but also kind of… nervous? Cora looks her over; takes in her dilated pupils and the way she’s biting at the insides of her cheeks, and she knows she’s right.  
  
It hits her then that nearly everything Erica has done tonight — crowding into Cora’s space, being so eager to spar with her, instigating a game of truth or dare that had so far kept them both tethered to the couch — all seemed to speak to a certain pattern. And maybe Erica’s just being a good beta; just following Derek’s orders to bond with Cora. But maybe not. It’s enough of a doubt that she has to know for sure.  
  
Cora swallows hard, steels her nerves. “I dare you to come closer.”  
  
Erica lets out a contented purr, and it warms Cora clear down to her toes. She closes the distance between them, stops when she’s close enough that Cora can feel Erica’s breaths ghosting over her face.  
  
It’s tentative when their lips touch, like dipping toes in the water and hoping that it’s perfect. And it is.  
  
Cora moves her lips against Erica’s slowly, determined to feel and memorize every last detail, from their soft fullness to the way they still taste faintly of pineapple and salt.  
  
When Cora tugs Erica closer, the other wolf goes easily, moving to straddle Cora’s lap with a wicked smile that Cora kisses into oblivion. It’s more intense now, with this new proximity, and one of Cora’s hands finds Erica’s hip while the other moves slowly up her spine to tangle in her hair.  
  
It seems like they stay that way for a long while, kissing lazily and gently exploring like they’re both trying to savor it. And it’s good, it’s so good, but Cora starts to get restless.  
  
And then Erica nips Cora’s lower lip hard enough to evoke a sharp inhale, and Cora retaliates by using her grasp on Erica’s hair to tilt her head to the side and graze her lips along Erica’s jaw.  
  
Her mouth latches onto Erica’s neck, laying down tongue-heavy kisses before she starts sucking little bruises into her skin that fade almost as soon as they appear. There’s a thrumming beneath Cora’s lips, and she licks along Erica’s pulse point before she sinks her blunt teeth into the flesh between her neck and shoulder.  
  
Erica lets out a low moan and shoves Cora against the back of the couch, reconnecting their lips in a searing kiss. And it’s not fair that Erica is able to do that; to merely put her lips to Cora’s and make her mind stutter. Cora kisses back desperately, one hand at the small of Erica’s back and the other on the nape of her neck, keeping her pressed in close.  
  
Cora gets a little braver, lets her hand slip down to grab hold of Erica’s ass, and the blonde responds with a groan and a muffled giggle, then breaks their kiss. She looks down at Cora with a knowing smile. “Is it as good as you imagined it?”  
  
"Don’t flatter yourself," Cora tells her, but she’s smiling when she brings their lips back together.  
  
Their kiss turns frenzied; Erica’s hands tangled in Cora’s hair, on the back of her neck, slipping under her shirt to smooth over her abs. Everywhere. Cora licks into Erica’s mouth. Erica sucks the tip of her tongue. Cora’s hands find Erica’s hips; they pull her down further, and Erica grinds slowly down.  
  
Cora’s fingers move to the hem of Erica’s shirt. Erica’s panting slightly when she pulls back and locks eyes with Cora. She nods softly, then raises her arms over her head. It’s a simple gesture, a willingness to be undressed, yet still enough to make Cora ache.  
  
She pushes up slowly on the material, fingers trailing along Erica’s sides as she goes. Cora tugs the shirt over her head and throws it to the floor, which earns a disapproving huff from the blonde, but Cora makes it up to her by laying open-mouthed kisses along her collar bone.  
  
Cora eases back a few moments later, rakes her eyes over Erica and sinks her teeth into her own lower lip. She’s always so stunning, honestly, loathe as Cora would normally be to admit it. But like this, looming over her in just a pink lace bra, soft waves of golden hair cascading over her shoulders, she soars to a level of perfection that Cora finds almost dizzying.  
  
Erica grins wildly down at her. “Bet you’re looking at them now, huh?” she says teasingly, pushing her chest a little closer to Cora’s face, and Cora feels her cheeks burning instantly.  
  
"Shut up," Cora says, and surges up to press her lips to Erica’s to ensure that she actually does.  
  
It’s not as frantic this time, their kiss. It’s deep, but it’s slow. Cora’s tongue traces the outline of Erica’s lips, and Erica captures Cora’s lower lip between her teeth, tugs it out a bit before releasing it. And Cora is fairly certain that she’s in love with the feel of Erica’s teeth sinking into her, blunt and teasing as it is.  
  
Erica’s grinding against her again, and this time Cora finds herself bucking her hips into it. “Mmm,” Erica hums against Cora’s lips. “Take me to bed.”  
  
Cora lets out a shaky exhale, nods, and secures her arms around Erica. She lifts them both up, and Erica makes a delighted purr and wraps her legs around Cora’s waist. Cora grins, moving one hand to Erica’s ass to keep her from slipping. And Cora had always thought it was a little stupid that Derek kept a bed in the corner of the common area, but God, she couldn’t possibly be more thankful for it now.  
  
She lays Erica down, takes a moment to marvel at the way her bright hair splays over the dark sheets, and then she follows, covering Erica’s body with her own. Erica’s arms are reaching for her, tugging her in close, guiding their lips together again for a slow kiss so filthy that it sends jolts of pure want through Cora.  
  
Erica, without much pretense at all, divests Cora of her shirt. She’s wearing a dark gray sports bra, which she might’ve traded for something a bit sexier if she’d known it was going to be seen. But she couldn’t possibly have predicted this, and it doesn’t seem to matter anyway. Erica is eyeing her with a satisfied expression, snaking her hands up to smooth over the fabric-covered curves of her breasts.  
  
And she’s never been touched like this before, but Erica’s curious fingers are slipping under the band of her bra, and Cora can only blush a little and nod when Erica softly asks, “This too?”  
  
Erica makes quick work of removing the bra, and suddenly Cora’s half naked; exposed and vulnerable and hot all over under Erica’s gaze.  “Damn,” Erica says, but it’s more of a breath than an actual word. “You are so fucking hot.”  
  
Cora’s cheeks must be a shade of crimson, but the corner of the loft is dark enough that she hopes it’s not as apparent as it feels. It’s embarrassing, being on display like this for someone. Cora’s never been this close to someone; never had eyes roving over her naked flesh like this.  
  
It’s nerve-wracking and electrifying all at once, and Cora is still in the process of sorting out her feelings about it but then she’s being abruptly flipped over, her back connecting with the mattress before she even has time to fully register what’s happening. And that would be embarrassing, too, if it wasn’t for Erica moving to straddle her again.  
  
Cora’s hands go to Erica’s hips, fingers digging in just above the waistline of her skinny jeans. She doesn’t know how to express what she wants; what she needs. But Erica is looking down at her with a fond sort of smirk, and Cora thinks she must already know.  
  
"I guess it’s only fair if I take this off," she says, reaching back to unclasp her bra. The straps slide down her shoulders slowly, and Cora has just enough patience to follow them. And then Erica is half naked on top of her, and it’s so spectacular that it’s actually a little painful. Erica’s breasts are fuller than her own, balanced with the curves of her hips in a way that’s genetically unfair. And maybe, maybe Cora would be envious. But now, though; now she just wants to touch.  
  
Cora trails her fingertips softly up Erica’s stomach, then she’s cupping Erica’s breasts, brushing her thumb over a nipple experimentally. Erica lets out a soft moan, and Cora bites her lip as she looks up at her. “You’re gorgeous,” she says.  
  
Erica beams. She allows herself to be admired for another drawn out moment — and Cora does drink in her image, all that smooth skin and luscious blonde hair bathed in moonlight — before she lowers herself down to meet Cora. Their naked skin meets, soft curves moving against each other, and it sends warm rivulets through Cora.  
  
Her hands are greedy, suddenly; traveling the expanse of Erica’s back, nails dragging lightly down her spine. Erica wriggles above her, and Cora tilts her head and captures her mouth. It’s neither frantic nor tame, but it’s maybe just a little desperate. Erica drags her tongue slowly along Cora’s bottom lip, and when her teeth seize it, Cora’s hips roll up against Erica’s.  
  
"Oh, really?" Erica says, pulling away just enough for Cora to see her arched brow.  
  
Cora responds by flipping them over. Erica hits the mattress with a soft grunt, and Cora growls a little as she reconnects their lips. There’s a scent around them, musky and hot and enticing, and it makes Cora inhale deeply as her mouth moves against Erica’s. And she wants — no, she needs — more of it. One hand snakes down between their bodies, starts to toy with the button on Erica’s jeans.  
  
Erica bites Cora’s lip again, harder this time, and they both moan. Cora takes that as encouragement. She pops the button and tugs the zipper down, shifts slightly so that her own body isn’t in the way. It’s a little clumsy and fumbling, but she slides the jeans down enough that Erica can kick them off. And then it’s just Erica, in nothing but pink, lace-trimmed underwear that perfectly match the bra that’s on the floor.  
  
She falls back into Erica’s arms, with much restraint on her part, because she wants so badly to follow the scent that’s invading her senses. Wants to touch, taste, let it envelop her. She waits, though. Presses soft kisses along Erica’s jaw and mouths at her neck. Erica’s wriggling beneath her, and when Cora pulls back enough to look at her, she’s got her brow furrowed and a slight pout on her face.  
  
Erica slips a finger through one of Cora’s belt loops and yanks hard. “Take. Them. Off.”  
  
Cora lets out a soft laugh, but she complies, shimmying out of her jeans and kicking them to the floor. Their bare legs tangle together as Cora goes in for another kiss.  
  
It’s not long before Cora’s hands are wandering. She brushes her fingers over Erica’s nipple; rolls the nub gently between her fingertips. She shifts to the side, settles into the mattress beside Erica as her hand moves lower, stopping when it touches lace. Erica moans softly against her lips, and then Cora’s hand is moving again, fingers settling over damp fabric.  
  
Her hand is still for a moment too long, apparently, because Erica starts rolling her hips up into it, making a soft whimpering sort of noise. Cora kisses her firmly as her fingers move in slow circles, rewarded by Erica breathing harshly against her lips.  
  
Cora’s fingers slip underneath,  hesitating only for a moment before dipping into Erica’s warmth. Cora lets out a soft moan at how wet Erica is, and then she’s dragging that wetness up, circling her fingers over Erica’s clit. Erica takes in a sharp breath, then bucks her hips up against Cora’s hand.  
  
It’s so much better like that; touching Erica’s warm, naked skin. Feeling her throb beneath Cora’s fingertips. It’s incredible. But it’s also stirring up even more of that tantalizing scent, and Cora knows that it’s not going to be enough just to touch her.  
  
Cora breaks their kiss in favor of kissing down Erica’s neck, pausing briefly to lick at her collar bone. She moves steadily down, mouthing at her breasts. Lower then, kissing a trail down her stomach. She trusts that Erica will stop her if she doesn’t want this, but when her lips come to the top of Erica’s underwear and she looks up, Erica’s watching her intently, teeth biting into her lower lip. And then she nods.  
  
She mouths at Erica through the thin, nearly soaked material, and Erica moans softly. Cora continues like that for awhile, tongue snaking out to lick at her through the fabric, until she’s not sure which of them she’s teasing anymore. She tugs Erica’s underwear down and off, settles herself between Erica’s thighs like she belongs there.  
  
The first touch of her tongue to Erica’s clit is light, but it makes the blonde’s hips jump. Cora gives a few more soft, teasing licks before she presses in, dips her tongue into Erica’s center, moaning as she tastes her fully.  
  
She drags her tongue back up to circle around Erica’s clit, reveling in the way it makes Erica’s breath hitch. Like she’s anticipating the contact. But Cora draws it out, deliberately teasing, until Erica’s hips start to rock up against her tongue. “Please,” Erica moans out, and Cora obliges, tongue flicking out over her clit softly.  
  
Erica makes a desperate sort of sound. Cora moans and moves her tongue faster; harder. She sucks the throbbing bud into her mouth, laves her tongue over it in quick circles. She licks down again, tongue dragging slowly, and dips into her hole.  
  
Cora grips Erica’s thighs when she starts to struggle, trying to get Cora’s mouth back to where she needs it. She teases just a bit more, tongue lapping at Erica’s wet entrance, before she comes back up and latches onto Erica’s clit again. Her tongue moves fast and merciless, flicking and lapping and sucking until Erica’s legs start to tremble.  
  
Erica’s hands find their way into Cora’s hair, holding her in place as she bucks her hips up against Cora’s mouth. Her heart is beating wildly and her breaths are ragged, and then she’s letting out quick, sharp moans. “Oh God,” she grits out. “Cora, _fuck!_ ”  
  
And then she’s arching up, letting loose an unintelligible string of moans and partial words as she comes. Her hips circle against Cora’s face as she ekes out every last bit of pleasure, and then she falls heavily back down to the mattress. “Oh my god,” she whispers breathlessly, staring down at Cora with blown pupils and mussed hair.  
  
Cora crawls slowly back up to Erica, taking immense pride in watching her attempts to catch her breath. She looks so perfect like that; flushed and panting and smiling softly.  It does nothing to soothe the throbbing ache between Cora’s legs. They share a kiss, Erica making a soft _'mmm'_ noise as she tastes herself on Cora’s lips. Distantly, Cora is aware of something between her legs, and she slowly realizes that she’s straddling Erica’s thigh.  
  
Erica’s hands are on her hips, then, urging her to move. She begins to rock against Erica’s thigh, and she’s amazed how it feels like it’s a combination of dirty and _right_ to be using Erica’s body like this. She grinds harder and faster, Erica’s mouth on her breasts, kissing the soft curves and then flicking her tongue over each nipple. It sends more pleasure straight to her pussy, makes her rock even faster against Erica.  
  
One of Erica’s hands is digging into Cora’s hip hard enough to bruise, albeit temporarily. The other hand is snaking up Cora’s spine, tangling in her hair. Erica leans up, tilts Cora’s head to the side, and lays tongue-heavy kisses and harsh bites along the side of her neck. Cora’s breath is coming in ragged pants, her eyes squeezed shut. She’s close, _so close._  
  
And then Erica’s fangs sink into her shoulder, and Cora bucks wildly, lets out a broken whimper, and comes against Erica’s thigh. She rides it out, full-body shaking, hips gradually slowing down. She falls boneless next to Erica, lips parted as she sucks in deep breaths.  
  
"Wow," Erica says after a minute or two of silence. "That was fucking incredible."  
  
Cora nods from where she’s nuzzled her face into Erica’s neck. She’s still too dazed to form coherent sentences.  
  
Erica laughs suddenly. “I wonder if this is what Derek meant when he said we needed to bond.”  
  
Cora huffs, then they both dissolve into quiet giggles. Cora wraps her arms around Erica; presses herself in close against her back. It’s quiet for awhile, but the peaceful kind. Content. Just their hearts beating in tandem with their breathing. And then, softly, Erica speaks again. “You know, I’ve always kind of had a thing for you.”  
  
"What?" Cora asks, finding her voice, if a bit shaky. "I never noticed."  
  
Erica snorts quietly. “Yeah, well. You always seemed to leave the room as soon as I walked in, so that’s not entirely surprising.”  
  
Cora feels suddenly very much like she had when they’d gotten out of the bank vault. Like a lot of time had been needlessly wasted. Only this time, it’s her own fault. She sighs, presses a kiss into Erica’s hair. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it. “I’m a little late, but I swear I’m gonna catch up.”  
  
Erica doesn’t say anything for a minute, but then she kisses Cora’s palm and joins their hands, brings them in tight over her heart. Cora thinks that’s probably better than anything either of them could’ve said.  
  
They fall asleep eventually, and Cora dreams of golden hair that gleams like a beacon in a sea of gray. Of a bright smile that draws her in, and full lips that keep her there.  
  
In the morning — way too early as far as Cora’s concerned — they’re awoken by the sound of a throat clearing loudly. Cora blinks blearily up at Derek, standing next to the bed with his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Get up and get dressed," he tells them. "Training starts in 30 minutes. Hope you’re not too tired to run."  
  
And then he looks pointedly between the two of them, smirks, and walks away.  
  
Cora falls back against the pillows and sighs heavily.  
  
Derek is the worst.


End file.
